


so please, just hold on to me

by Alienu



Series: nothing lasts forever [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Burns, Death, Gen, Grief, Hurt No Comfort, Magic, No Romance, Panic, Potions, Swearing, Violence, sleepy bois brothers AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alienu/pseuds/Alienu
Summary: “You’re fine!” Wilbur rasps, trying to smile reassuringly. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. It’s just a few burns. You’re alright.” He laughs a little, but it sounds strained, “You’re tough, aren’t you Tommy? TommyInnit the man, right?”"He's too far gone, Wilbur."
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: nothing lasts forever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962868
Comments: 22
Kudos: 399





	so please, just hold on to me

**Author's Note:**

> hi 
> 
> ive been writing a lot of angst lately
> 
> sorry :(

“Tommy?”

Wilbur grips the trademark red and white shirt of his right hand man with trembling hands. His younger brother stares helplessly up at him, blond hair singed and dirty with ash. Shallow breaths pass from between his slightly parted lips, eyes fluttering open and closed as if he is fighting unconsciousness. His head lolls to the side uselessly, propped up only by Wilbur’s arm, as if he doesn’t have the strength to hold it up himself. Wilbur tries to speak, tries in vain to tell his little brother that it’s gonna be okay, that _he’s_ going to be okay. He can’t, mouth refusing to form words no matter how hard he tries.

_What have I done?_

There are people panicking around them. Wilbur barely hears them, his eyes focused on the bloody, burned face of his vice president. Everything else is muffled, as if he is underwater. Faintly, he recognizes two hands reaching for Tommy, trying to pull him away, trying to take him. Will snarls, gritting his teeth and fending them off with a shout of, “Get the _fuck_ away!” Tubbo—he thinks that’s Tubbo—flinches away with wide eyes and turns towards the others. He doesn’t even feel bad for yelling at the young boy. He doesn’t care. 

Somewhere, it registers in his brain that Tommy isn’t going to be okay. That he’s fucked up so bad and if only he had listened and stopped thinking he knew better, then none of this would’ve happened. 

_Tommy’s dying._

_No! He’s not. He’s gonna be okay._

Will smells gunpowder. He breathes heavily, shaking hands reaching up to brush a few strands of hair out of Tommy’s face. The young blond’s eyes are half-lidded, staring up at him with the same admiring gaze he had always looked at him with for so long. How could Tommy look at him that way, after what he’s done? Wilbur feels sick to his stomach, blood roaring loud in his ears as he tries desperately not to cry. He can’t be weak in front of Tommy. He can’t. “Tommy.” he whispers, his throat scratchy. The words are hoarse and barely audible, but the way Tommy’s mouth twitches shows that he’s heard. Wilbur swallows back a sob, taking in a trembling breath, “Tommy, I’m sorry. I-I should’ve listened. I’m sorry.” 

_Tommy was right._

Someone is yelling. Multiple people are yelling, in fact. Will slaps away the gloved hand that reaches out towards him, looking up with wide, angry eyes to meet the beady black gaze of Dream’s mask. He tilts his head at him, saying something that Wilbur can’t interpret through the chaotic buzzing of his mind. His lips barely move, forming a breathy ‘What?’ that prompts Dream to reach into his pocket, pulling out a glass bottle filled with pinkish red liquid.

_What is that?_

“—bur—potion—ommy—” The former president squints, straining to hear and only catching a few broken words. He realizes after half a second that Dream is holding a regeneration potion, making wild hand gestures towards his younger brother. Dream is trying to help.

_He has a potion. It’ll be okay. Regenerative potions always work. Right? Tommy’s gonna be fine._

“Okay,” he whispers, nodding and adjusting a little so that the masked man can uncap the bottle and dribble some of the liquid through Tommy’s still lips. Tommy coughs when some of the sweet liquid slips down the wrong pipe. Dream mutters something incoherent, tilting the bottle even more. He helps Tommy swallow, the boy relaxing again when all the red fluids have left the glass and no more is being asked of him. His chest rises and falls quickly, remaining unchanged despite the healing potion entering his system.

_Why isn’t it working?_

Wilbur casts a wild, helpless glance at Dream. The blond shakes his head, turning to shout something at the others. His hold tightens, trying not to look at the obvious burn marks littering Tommy’s skin, trying not to inhale the rancid smell of burnt flesh, trying not to let the visceral fear inside him become visible. Tommy’s eyelids droop, as if he wants to sleep. The fear coils tight. Wilbur pushes it away, he needs to be strong. 

_Don’t sleep. Please._

“You’re fine!” Wilbur rasps, trying to smile reassuringly. It doesn’t work and comes out as more of a grimace, but he does so anyway. It’s better than nothing, he reasons. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. It’s just a few burns. You’re alright.” He laughs a little, but it sounds strained, “You’re tough, aren’t you Tommy? TommyInnit the man, right?”

Dream returns again, this time holding a damp cloth. Wilbur allows him to gently dab the burn marks with it, snapping at the green clad man to be more careful when Tommy hisses and tries to move out of reach, to avoid the pain. Tubbo approaches again shortly after, tears streaking his cheeks as he holds out another potion. Wilbur looks up long enough to notice the way the younger’s hands violently shake, staring down at his best friend with obvious horror. Not horror at the way Tommy looked, but horror at the fact that Tommy is dying. Wilbur feels the same way, the hope he’s so desperately clinging onto draining with every moment that the potion doesn’t work. If a regeneration potion hadn’t worked, what would?

_I should’ve listened._

If only he had just done what Tommy said to do. This wouldn’t have happened. They wouldn’t be here right now. If he had just come to his fucking senses and not tried to ruin the godforsaken festival, Tommy would be okay. They’d be in Pogtopia, probably, planning their next move. He wouldn’t be here, watching the life drain slow and steady from his little brother’s eyes as people around try desperately to save him. Anything would be better than being here right now. Hell, Wilbur would rather die than look at this sight for a second longer.

_This was a mistake._

Dream takes the potion with a nod, gesturing for Tubbo to go back to the others. They’re all gathered in a group over there, casting worried glances and shoving ingredients into the cauldron before dipping glass bottles in them and setting them on the brewing stand. It’s loud. They’re all yelling at each other. Wilbur inhales shakily, holding back the pitiful cry that wants to escape him, and lets Dream feed the second potion to his brother. Even now it doesn’t work. Dream shakes his head grimly, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. The fog in his mind clears enough to listen to his words as he speaks, voice solemn and remorseful.

“He’s too far gone, Wilbur.”

“Shut up.” He mutters, teeth baring in a snarl, “Shut up!” Dream shies away, retracting his hand and standing up to back away. He is immediately forgotten, and Wilbur thinks wildly for a moment that Phil could save him. Phil with his magic. Magic is always stronger than potions. So if they just got Phil, he’d be okay. Tommy can hang on for an hour or two while Techno got their Dad, right?

_Phil won’t make it in time._

“Tommy?” Will looks down, panic running in tingles up his spine when he takes in the sight of his younger brother, eyes closed and chest barely moving. He bites his lip hard, the iron taste of blood filling his mouth. “Tommy, if this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

_This can’t be happening._

“Will..”

Wilbur starts at the hoarse whisper of his name, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “Tommy? Tommy!” His fingers dig into the cloth of Tommy’s shirt, “Tommy, don’t…” He watches in horrified trepidation as the blond’s eyelids blink slowly shut, chest stilling as his quiet breaths become more and more shallow.

_No. No no no no no no Tommy please don’t leave me Tommy please no don’t do this-_

Eventually, they stop all together. 

Wilbur shakes him slightly. He doesn’t move. 

He watches blankly as his own tears drip onto Tommy’s far too peaceful looking face. He doesn’t know what to say, speechless with disbelief. It vaguely registers within his mind that the yelling has intensified, and then there are hands pulling him away and Dream is picking Tommy up, swiftly cradling his unmoving body and standing. Will stares numbly down at his hands, red with Tommy’s blood and reeking of gunpowder. It makes him want to vomit.

_It’s my fault._

“—ilbur—Schlatt—now!“ 

Someone is pulling him to his feet. Wilbur stands, shaky on his feet and swaying. They’re pushing him towards the forest, a voice he vaguely recognizes as Eret yelling in his ear.

_“RUN, WILBUR!”_

Techno is grabbing at his arm, pulling him along. Will stumbles, glancing back once at the crowd of people letting them flee. He sees Dream, holding his little brother’s lifeless body in his arms. Dream nods at him, and even through his haze of panic and grief, Wilbur recognizes that as a sure sign that he’d appear later. So he turns back around, escaping in stunned silence as tears stream heavy down his cheeks. 

Techno clamps his hand hard around the brunette’s wrist, pulling him along. He almost stumbles a few times, tripping over his own feet and gasping for air with every step his burning legs take. Tommy’s dead, he realizes as his older brother tugs him through the dense forest. Tommy’s dead and it’s his fault. 

_I fucked up._

**Author's Note:**

> commenting would be cool! maybe? :D i love reading comments


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